


Dream

by raininshadows



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10511778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininshadows/pseuds/raininshadows
Summary: Four different looks at how the fayth became fayth.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pantsoffdanceoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantsoffdanceoff/gifts).



> Hi! I loved your prompts, and I hope you like this fic!

Like most people, Valefor had wanted to be a summoner when she was very young. She wasn’t a summoner herself, though; the fayth didn’t appear to her as they did to true summoners. Her family had lived in Kilika then, and she’d spent every spare moment she had at the temple, watching the summoners on their pilgrimage entering to commune with the fayth. She’d always felt a sort of connection with the fayth, a sense of feeling drawn towards the Chamber of the Fayth. 

The temple at Besaid, where they had moved when she was seven, had no fayth of its own. There was a space for them, like at all temples — a room that was prepared to be a Chamber of the Fayth, with another room that would forge itself into a Cloister of Trials when the magic of the fayth flooded it. She felt drawn to it in the same way she’d felt drawn to the fayth in Kilika, but it was just as off-limits. The Church of Yevon, working through the priest of the temple, would decide who was to be the fayth, and they would be the first person to enter the chamber. Still, just as she had in Kilika, she spent as much of her spare time as possible in the temple. 

After a few months, the priest approached her one afternoon. “Valefor, may I speak to you?” he asked. 

She bowed. “Of course. What is it?”

“I’ve noticed that you come here often,” he said. “And that you seem drawn towards the Chamber of the Fayth.” 

Valefor nodded. “I am. I don’t know why. It’s always been so; it was the same when I lived in Kilika.”

“You won’t be a summoner, of course,” he said quietly. “But your faith is strong, and something in the temple calls to your soul. I’d like to train you as a priestess.” 

It wasn’t hard to persuade her family. One fewer mouth to feed, and a daughter who was a priestess of Yevon, was rarely refused. Valefor herself had been thrilled at the idea. The draw of the empty Chamber grew stronger the more time she spent around it, though, and she found herself continually fighting the urge to enter. 

When she was eleven, Sin came. They’d had some warning — not much, but enough to try to do something. She’d gone to the temple. There was a girl who was going to be a summoner, who she knew she was going to find there. 

“Come with me,” she said quietly to the girl. Outside, Besaid was a seething mass of chaos; inside the temple, all was calm and quiet. Together, they walked to the empty Chamber. Valefor met the girl’s eyes, tried to let everything else fall away except her faith in Yevon. Nothing was to be left in her mind except belief. “When I cross through here, I’m going to become a fayth. Use my aeon to fight Sin.”

“But I’m not a summoner yet,” the girl protested.

“You will be. I’ll help,” Valefor said, stepping through the door. 

She felt her body, very distantly, falling into crystal; she felt the rooms around her reshaping and shifting with her newfound power; she felt the collective consciousness of all the fayth in Spira. But immediately and vividly, she felt the summoner girl calling her. 

For the first time, Valefor flew.

**

Ifrit had never really understood summoners. He respected them, of course, and their willingness to sacrifice their lives to defeat Sin — everyone in Spira did — but the strange quiet mysticism had never made sense to him. He’d always been far more in tune with the clash of sword on sword, the burn of exhausted muscles, the gritty reality of physical combat. That was why he’d joined the Crusaders. Kilika Temple wasn’t exactly one of the most prestigious postings imaginable, but it was at least interesting. Fiends wandered out of the woods on a fairly regular basis to attack the temple, and Kilika Port brought in travelers from all over Spira. 

He’d never been particularly curious about the fayth, either. They were even more removed from everyday life than the summoners, who at least had to live and breathe; fayth were frozen eternally in crystal, their lives used to fuel their return as aeons, never seen or heard by those who didn’t have the gift of summoning. 

Then, one day, it started. He’d always found fire hypnotic, but the idea that the Chamber of the Fayth would capture his attention the same way the fire did had seemed ridiculous. Then, suddenly, he could barely drag his attention away from it. He’d hardly even noticed himself approaching the room one night, until suddenly he realized halfway through the would-be Cloister of Trials where he was. 

One of the priests was standing in the room, and Ifrit reflexively bowed to him. 

“It calls to you,” the priest said.

Ifrit stared at him, confused.

“The Chamber of the Fayth. It’s trying to summon you, isn’t it?” the priest said. 

Ifrit nodded, hesitant to answer out loud. 

“Go, then,” the priest said. “The temple chooses its own fayth sometimes. It wants you.”

Ifrit stepped into the Chamber and instantly felt fire blaze through him, leaving behind a lingering sensation of warmth as his body was immersed in the crystal that preserved the fayth. Outside, he could feel fire catching. 

**

Djose had always called to Ixion, and he wasn’t sure why, given that he’d grown up in Besaid. There wasn’t a temple there, although he sometimes forgot that; when he slept, he dreamed of what seemed like a temple there, with electricity surging through stone and lifting it. The vision burned in his mind when he woke. He’d had it ever since he was a child, before he’d even seen Djose; seeing a picture of Djose for the first time had been like being struck by lightning. 

As an adult, he’d left his home and his family and gone to find the place in his dreams. It hadn’t been hard, somewhat to his surprise. There was a network of caves in the rock already that seemed ripe for turning into the temple he’d dreamed of; he set to building. As he worked, others appeared, drawn by dreams or curiosity or a desire to see the crazy man trying to build a temple singlehandedly in _Djose_ of all places. A lot of them stuck around to help. 

Finally, when it was almost complete, the priests of Yevon came. Apparently they thought his temple was the product of divine inspiration. They blessed it and laid magic on it and shaped it into a true holy place. Last, they set the spells that would create the Chamber of the Fayth. As soon as Ixion saw it, a feeling of rightness suffused him. This, he knew, was his destiny.

The temple was finished on a humid summer day, and there was a thunderstorm building as night fell. Ixion could feel the electric tension in the air. The temple was empty, and there was nothing stopping him from entering the Chamber of the Fayth. Just at the door, he paused to let his faith in Yevon envelop him.

He felt the spark surge through his body, leaving a crystalline stillness behind. In his new place, out beyond the world, he saw the massive stones wrapped in lightning for the first time, just as he had always envisioned. The people outside stared in awe and recognition at the creation of a new fayth. 

**

The first Shiva had known of her destiny was when she met the Maester. He had seemed confused by her at first, although she was a priestess like any other. The temple at Macalania was a large one — even though they had no fayth, it was a common place for travelers of all kinds, especially summoners on pilgrimage, to rest. She was one of many priestesses.

“You, child, are special,” he’d told her. 

“What do you mean, Maester?” she’d asked. 

“You will not be just a priestess,” he’d said. “You will be a fayth.”

So she’d been separated from the rest of the priestesses. Alone, she’d meditated and wandered the forest and the lake, focusing on how Yevon’s touch could be found in everything in Spira. She dreamed of what Macalania would look like with the world-shifting influence of a fayth in the temple. 

When Shiva returned, she realized at once how separate she felt from the rest of them. She’d encountered travelers occasionally during her time alone, on the circuitous path past the Macalania Woods and the lake, but their contact had been brief; now, for the first time, it hit her how far she’d grown from even the other Yevonites. 

The Maester who’d told her she was going to be a fayth was there. He smiled at her as she crossed to the Chamber. At the threshold, she turned and looked back. Then, taking a moment to clear her mind of everything but Yevon, she entered the Chamber of the Fayth. 

A sensation of burning cold surged through her body. She was aware, distantly, of the crystal surging around her to freeze her forever, and of Lake Macalania suddenly beginning to ice over.


End file.
